Gideon and Tommy arrived at dawn. Two Harleys rumbling into the parking lot like thunder. Both men were in their 40s, both wearing Angel's colors, both carrying themselves like the combat veterans they were. Jackson met them outside. Gideon clasped his hand.
"Boss, good to see you. " "You, too, brother. Thanks for coming. " Tommy nodded. "Heard you got lady problems. Sheriff problems. Seemed like you could use backup.
Appreciate it. " They moved their bikes around back out of sight. Jackson brought them inside, introduced them to Beatatrice. She shook their hands firmly. "Thank you for coming. I know this isn't your fight. " "Boss' fights are our fights," Gideon said simply.
Beatatrice fed them breakfast. Listened to them talk, watched how they deferred to Jackson, how they treated him with respect all that went beyond friendship. After they ate, the four of them sat in the office. Jackson laid out the situation. Warren's scheme, the pattern of deaths, the vandalism, the expected delivery of the repaired Harley.
"So, what's the play? " Tommy asked. "We waiting for Warren to make a move. We're protecting Beatatrice and the bike. Warren wants both gone. We're making sure that doesn't happen.
You think he'll try something today? Maybe, maybe not. But I'd rather be ready and wrong than caught by surprise. Gideon pulled out his phone. I'll set up a perimeter watch.
Tommy takes the front. I'll take the back. You stay with Beatatrice. Anyone approaches who doesn't belong, we alert each other. What about weapons?
Tommy asked. Jackson looked at Beatatrice. She nodded. We're armed legally for self-defense only. Warren's law enforcement.
We can't afford to start anything. Just finish it," Tommy said with a grim smile. At 11:30, Pete's truck pulled into the lot. The Harley sat on a trailer behind it, covered with a tarp. Jackson and Beatatric walked out to meet him.
Gideon and Tommy stayed inside, but visible through the windows. Pete climbed down from the prim looked nervous. "Mr. Reeves, Miss uh Holloway, got your bike. " "Any trouble? " Jackson asked. "No trouble, but I drove the long way, made sure nobody followed. " He glanced around.
You expecting someone? Maybe. They unloaded the Harley together. When Pete pulled the tarp off, Beatatric gasped. The bike gleamed.
The tank's paint was perfect to a deep black mirror smooth. The chrome pipes shown like new. New mirrors, new seat, every scratch and dent erased. "Oh my god," Beatatric whispered. "It's beautiful.
It's exactly how Douglas kept it. " Pete smiled. Did my best. Wanted to do right by it. Jackson paid him in cash, added an extra 200 as a thank you. You didn't have to do that, Pete said.
Yeah, I did. You took a risk. Appreciate it. Pete nodded, climbed back in his truck. "Good luck, folks.
I hope this works out. " After he left, Beatatric circled the Harley slowly, touching it like it might disappear. Her eyes were wet. "I can't believe it," she said. "It's perfect. It's really perfect. " Jackson rolled it into the garage.
Beatatric followed. They stood looking at it in the dim light. "Want to take it for a ride? " Jackson asked. "Now, why not? We've got daylight.
We've got backup. And the bike deserves to be ridden. " Beatric looked uncertain. "What about Warren? Let him watch. Let him see that he didn't win. " A slow smile spread across Beatric's face.
"Okay, yes, let's ride. " Jackson started the engine, that familiar Harley rumble, music to his ears. Beatatrice climbed on behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist, her grip firm and sure. They pulled out of the garage, past the diner, past Gideon and Tommy, who nodded as they passed onto the frontage road, then Highway 95, and they rode. Not fast, not far, just 30 mi out into the desert and back. But it was enough.
Enough for Beatatric to feel the wind again, to feel Douglas's presence in the rumble of the engine, to remember what freedom felt like. Enough for Jackson to feel like he'd completed something important, like he'd honored a promise, like he'd done something worth doing. They returned to the diner an hour later, pulled into the lot. Warren's SUV was parked out front. Jackson killed the engine, felt Beatatric's grip tighten.
"It's okay," he said quietly. Gideon and Tommy are inside. "We're not alone. " They climbed off the bike, walked toward the diner. Warren stood on the front steps, arms crossed, face hard. "Miss Holloway? " And he said, "Mr.
Reeves, nice bike. Fixed up real nice. " "Thank you," Beatatric said. Her voice didn't shake. "Shame about the vandalism. Did Deputy Mills follow up on that report? " "You know he didn't? " Warren smiled, cold, empty.
"Well, these things take time, investigations, procedures. You understand? " "What do you want, Warren by now? Just checking in, making sure you're okay, making sure you're He glanced at Jackson. Guests aren't causing problems. The only problem I have is you.
Warren's smile vanished. Careful, Beatatrice. You're old. You're sick. Accidents happen to people in your condition.
Jackson stepped forward. That a threat? Statement of fact. Warren turned his cold eyes on Jackson. And you?
I know you've been making calls, asking questions, talking to federal agents. Public corruption is a federal crime. Seemed appropriate. You got no proof of anything. We'll see.
Warren stepped closer into Jackson's space. I've killed better men than you, Reeves. Put them in the ground and slept fine. You really want to test me? Before Jackson could respond, Gideon and Tommy stepped out of the diner, flanked Warren on both sides.
"Problem here, boss? " Gideon asked. Warren looked at them at their colors, at the muscle and experience written in their faces, his jaw tightened. "No problem. Just having a conversation. Conversation's over, Jackson said.
Leave now. Warren looked at Beatatrice. Last chance. Sell. Take the money.
Walk away. Or what happens to the bike will happen to you. Get off my property. Warren held her gaze for another moment, then smiled. Your funeral.
He walked to his SUV, drove away slowly, taking his time, making a point. After he left, Beatatric's legs gave out. Jackson caught her, helped her inside. It's okay, he said. You did great.
You stood up to him. He's going to kill us. All of us. Just like he killed Ruth and Harold and Marcus. No, he's not.
Because we're ready. Because we're not alone. Because the FBI is watching him now. Gideon brought water. Tommy locked the doors.
They sat in the diner. While Beatatrice recovered while the adrenaline faded, while reality settled back in. Finally, Gideon said, "Boss, he's going to escalate. Tonight, tomorrow. " That wasn't a warning. That was a promise.
WM I know. So, what's the plan? Jackson thought about it. About Warren's desperation. About the pattern of deaths, about how far a cornered man would go.
We stay together watching shifts. Nobody goes anywhere alone. We document everything. And we wait for Warren to make his mistake. I know this is difficult.
And if he doesn't make a mistake, Tommy asked, if he's smart about it, then we make him think we're scared. Make him overconfident. Give him enough rope to hang himself. Beatatrice looked up. How come?